Chapter 57
Chapter 57:
He groaned, shielding his face. His head felt as though it had been split open with an axe. His mouth tasted like copper and ash. He tried to move, but his left arm was pinned.
He blinked, his vision slowly clearing. There was a mass of blonde hair on his chest.
For a split second, his heart leaped. Jocelyn. It had worked. She had stayed. She had forgiven him.
“Jocelyn?” he rasped, his voice rough with sleep.
The woman stirred. She rolled over, stretching like a satisfied cat.
It wasn’t Jocelyn.
Aspen smiled at him, her makeup smudged artfully. “Good morning, fiancé p>
Kieran froze. The blood in his veins turned to ice. “Aspen? What… how p>
“You were so passionate last night, Kieran,” she giggled, tracing a finger down his chest. “You kept calling my name p>
“No.” Kieran sat up, pushing her away. The room spun. “No, I was with Jocelyn. We were in the restaurant p>
𝖫а𝗍𝗲𝘴t 𝗰𝘩a𝘱𝘵𝖾𝘳𝗌 oո
The hotel room door flew open. It didn’t just open — it was kicked in.
A wall of noise hit them. Shouts. The mechanical whir of camera shutters. And then the blinding, strobing assault of flashbulbs.
“Mr. Douglas! Is this a reconciliation p>
“Aspen! Show us the ring p>
“Was this a celebration of the merger p>
Kieran scrambled backward, pulling the sheet up to cover himself. “Get out! Who the hell let you in p>
Aspen didn’t hide. She sat up, feigning a gasp of shock, but made sure the sheet slipped just enough to bare her shoulder. She buried her face in Kieran’s neck, creating the perfect image of a scandalous morning after.
“Security!” Kieran roared, his voice cracking.
Two hotel guards finally pushed through the mob of photographers, shoving them back into the hallway. But the damage was done. The shutters had clicked a hundred times.
Kieran sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He felt sick.
“You called them,” he whispered.
“Me?” Aspen’s eyes went wide. “Kieran, I’m the victim here. My reputation is ruined p>
“Get dressed,” Kieran snarled. “Get out of my sight p>
Across the city, in the Collins penthouse, the mood was very different.
Jocelyn sat at the marble kitchen island, sipping an espresso. The apartment was quiet, filled with the scent of roasted coffee beans and rain.
Gaston walked in holding his iPad, already dressed for the day in a navy suit and looking annoyingly fresh.
“Your ex is having a busy morning,” he said, sliding the iPad across the cool stone counter.
Jocelyn looked at the screen. The headline on Page Six screamed in bold black letters:
DOUGLAS TECH CEO CAUGHT IN HOTEL TRYST WITH HEIRESS FIANCÉE.
Below it was a grainy but unmistakable photo of Kieran — disheveled and panicked in a hotel bed, Aspen clinging to him.
Jocelyn nearly choked on her coffee. “Oh my god p>
“Classy,” Gaston commented, pouring himself a glass of water.
“He was so drunk last night,” Jocelyn said, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he passed out with her. They deserve each other p>
She felt a strange mix of emotions — disgust, certainly, but also a dark, twisted amusement.